The masthead says Georgia Student Finance Commission, but the cheap copied letterhead bears the seal of the guvnah, Sonny Perdue. I’ll cite the first two paragraphs verbatim:

The Georgia Student Finance Commission (GSFC) is the agency responsible for administering the Governor’s Scholarship Program. We are writing to inform you that the State Budget Appropriations Act for Fiscal Year 2010, recently passed by the General Assembly, does not include funds for the Governor’s Scholarship Program.

The lack of funding for the program means there will be no Governor’s Scholarship Program awards made for the 2009-2010 academic year.

If you’re curious, the Governor’s Scholarship awards are given to Star Students and Valedictorians in each public high school in the stage of Georgia. Second daughter, who was a Star Student at Perry High School a couple of years ago, has received around $900/year from this scholarship for the last two years. Admittedly, losing this money will not put an end to her college career, but it is money that must now come from elsewhere. These days, elsewhere can be a little hard to find.

Our federal government, operating in hopeful desparation, has saddled my daughter’s generation with a mountain of debt (see Poor Richard’s post A Modest Proposal ). It would seem that the least we could do is attempt to provide them with the wherewithal to pay their way out of it. This, it seems, runs directly counter to the priorities of Guvnah Sonny and the dimwits in the Georgia Legislature, who are more concerned with getting Georgians to go fishing or arguing over a resolution in support of President Obama than they are with education of the generations to come.

It is tempting to go off on a tangent about public education’s lack of concern for the best and brightest students, those with the most observable potential to get our nation out of the mess that my generation of politicians has gotten us into. The prima facie evidence indicates that dabbling into education by mediocre politicians and their mediocre bureaucratic appointees within the educational system has resulted in the dumbing down of a couple of generations of students.

Poor Richard submits that it’s one thing to do this accidentally (i.e. from stupidity, not malice), but quite another to do it intentionally. I would remind my Georgia readers that the same state officials who unaward scholarships have mandated significant budget cuts to education ($1.5 billion from the K-12 system and more from the universities, according to Bill Shipp and the Consortium for Adequate School Funding in Georgia), eliminated summer school for this year, and even suggested that it might be a good idea to furlough teachers for a few days during the next school year to save money.

It’s a matter of priorities. In the eyes of Georgia’s governor and legislature, stealth taxes on automobiles, indecision and endless argument about transportation, and questionable restructuring of the corporate tax code certainly trump education. Oh, and fishing . . . let’s not forget fishing (See the guvnah’s Press Release).

Postscript:

Daughter #1 will be graduating from Mercer in two short weeks. Today we learned who the commencement speaker will be. You guessed it . . . Guv’nah Sonny hisself. Ironic, huh? Isn’t life grand?

“Need Pricing! Please Respond Quickly!” reads the subject line of the email. Thinking that this might just be the order I’ve been waiting for all week, Poor Richard quickly opens the email in Thunderbird.

“My boss wants to do some postcards. How much will 1,000 be?”

“No clue,” responds Poor Richard’s brain as his eyes scan the rest of the post for more information, or at least a phone number to call. Phone number found, fingers are dialing.

“Hi, you’ve reached the voicemail of (let’s call her Nancy Jean . . . don’t think I have any real customers called Nancy Jean) Nancy Jean, I’m not able to come to the phone right now, but if you’ll leave a message, I’ll get back with you just as quickly as possible.”

“Nancy Jean, it’s Richard at AlphaGraphics. I received your inquiry by email. I’ll be happy to get you some numbers on the postcards, but I’ll need some details. Specifically, if you’ll let me know the size you’d like, whether they will be in color or black and white, coated or uncoated paper, who will be providing the art, and whether you’d like us to mail them. Let me know and I’ll get back with you as quickly as possible.”

The fingers follow instructions and produce an estimate for 1000 4.25 x 6 postcards on gloss cover. Still hoping beyond hope for something like a real job, the fingers include pricing for mail services. Because Poor Richard’s brain still has no clue about the design of the postcard, the fingers include the standard AlphaGraphics caveat:

Prices are for production only. Additional charges will apply for layout, design, or file modifications required before printing.

“Nancy Jean,” says Poor Richard’s brain,” what that means is that I still don’t know what you want to do or what will be required to do it.”

It’s 10:00 am when Poor Richard clicks the send button.

12:15 pm – lunchtime. Check the email.

“RE: FWD: Need Pricing! Please Respond Quickly!”

“Richard, can you help with this?” writes Nancy Jean, responding to her boss’ terse notation:

“Nancy Jean, you’ve got to do better than this!”

Poor Richard’s fingers dial once again.

“Hi, you’ve reached the voicemail of Nancy Jean, I’m not able to come to the phone right now, but if you’ll leave a message, I’ll get back with you just as quickly as possible.”

Poor Richard’s fingers add color one side and black ink two sides to the estimate and press the send button. It’s 12:30.

3:00 PM – done with bindery work downstairs. Let’s check the email.

“RE: FWD: RE: RE: FWD: Need Pricing! Please Respond Quickly!”

“Can we do something bigger?” writes Nancy Jean.

“Isn’t 4.25 x 6 a little small for a postcard?” writes her boss. “How much would a bigger card cost?”

“Bummer,” says Poor Richard’s brain, now beginning to realize that this is likely to turn into nothing. Poor Richard’s fingers revise the entire estimate for 5.5 x 8.5 cards. The postage estimate is revised to reflect the cost of mailing a larger card.

“Nancy Jean,” types Poor Richard’s fingers, ” here are revised estimates for larger cards. If you could please call me to discuss, I’d really, really appreciate it. We’d certainly like to help with your project and if you could call to discuss the project, I’m sure that we can find a way to make this work for you.” The fingers click send. It’s 3:15 PM.

“Hi, Nancy Jean, this is Richard at AlphaGraphics. I’m calling about the postcards we corresponded about yesterday.”

“Oh, Richard,” says Nancy Jean, “we really needed to get those postcards in the mail yesterday. When we couldn’t get all the information we needed, the boss decided not to send them. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks for thinking of us,” says Poor Richard’s mouth. Poor Richard’s brain isn’t working at all. “Please let me know if you decide to try again. And if you’ll let me know the budget, we’ll try our best to find a solution that will work for you.”

“Richard, you know my boss doesn’t work like that,” replies Nancy Jean. “Hope you have a good day today!”

“Nuff said,” says Poor Richard’s brain.

“Bye,” says Poor Richard.

Poor Richard’s fingers hang up the phone. Time to check email. Maybe there will be an order there . . . we could really use a good order.

At first, I wasn’t even interested. After all, bailout funds have something of a stigma about them, don’t they? What with AIG, the big car companies, and greedy bankers all clamoring for more, it’s just a little embarassing for a small businessperson to go out looking for the government dole. We’re supposed to be the proud and determined entrepreneurs that keep the country productive and innovative and 16 other patriotic sounding adjectives.

After 17 continuous months of recession, though, things were getting kind of desperate. Actually, Poor Richard didn’t realize that it had actually been 17 long months until he heard it on the radio. They kept the first year a secret for a while, you know. Anyway, because the level of desperation is inversely proportional to the level of funds in the company bank account; when the desperation got high enough, I made the phone call. After all, I rationalized, if all this money they’re printing isn’t going to be worth a plug nickel in the long run, shouldn’t AlphaGraphics get some to spend before everybody else figures it out?

So Poor Richard called Saxby Chambliss’ office in Macon and asked to speak with the Senator. A very nice young lady informed me that the Senator doesn’t really actually even ever stay here in Georgia, because it’s too far away from the center of things where all of the important stuff happens. She asked me why I was calling.

“I’m looking for some bailout money,” I responded, then decided to sweeten the pot. “Of course, I’ll be willing to sell up to 99% of the stock in my company, if that will help.”

“Oh, that would be most helpful!” she answered, “and exactly how many billions of dollars does your company need to stay afloat?”

Not wishing to be greedy, Poor Richard responded that a few million would actually do quite nicely. This didn’t sit well with the young lady in Senator Chambliss’ office, though.

“Only a few million?” came the huffy response, “I’m not sure that the treasury department is set up to administer bailouts in such small amounts. I’ll refer your inquiry to the Senator, but perhaps you should contact the Federal Department of Largesse and see if they have a block bailout program for smaller concerns like yours.”

She was kind enough to give me the toll free number for the Department of Largesse and then hung up the phone muttering something about the time wasted by common citizens who feel entitled to call Senators’ offices. Feeling bold, nonetheless, Poor Richard placed a call to the Department of Largesse and immediately became entangled in the voice mail system.

“Your call may be monitored to assure high levels of service,” continued the voice, “and your phone may be tapped to assure that you are not speaking regularly with Osama bin Laden or other Al Qaeda operatives. If you wish to continue, please enter your SIC code and the amount of governmental largesse that you wish to request.”

Once again, I complied. Not wanting to be greedy, I punched in 7,500,000. “This is really kind of easy,” I thought.

“Please be advised that if you are awarded funds by the Federal Department of Largesse, your salary and bonus package will be limited to a measly $500,000 annually. In addition, you are warned not to openly redistribute government funds among executive employees in such a manner that the news media or the public might discover your abominably irresponsible and unpatriotic behavior. If you agree with these terms and conditions, please press “1” to continue.”

Having no difficulty with the conditions, Poor Richard pressed “1.”

A long pause ensued, followed by a click as my call was transferred. Poor Richard could hardly wait. “Now I’ll get to talk with one of the customer service reps and tell them where to mail my $7.5 million,” I thought.

The phone clicked once more and another computerized voice queried. “Our records indicate that the asset value of your business is less than $10 billion dollars. Is this correct? If ‘yes,’ please press ‘1’ now, otherwise hold for the next customer service representative.”

With all good intentions and still hoping for the best, Poor Richard pressed “1.”

“We regret to inform you that your business has been deemed insignificant by the Federal Department of Largesse,” sounded yet another automated attendant. “The SIC code you entered indicates that your company is involved in the business of printing. Printing is not considered to be a relevant economic activity, nor is it eligible for funding under President Obama’s 21st Century Initiative for Green, Energy-Efficient, Barely Conceivable and Totally Impractical Projects.”

“Please press ‘1’ if you’d like to speak with a customer service representative,” the voice continued. “Our current hold time is estimated at 16 years, 3 months, 2 days, 5 hours, 16 minutes and 35 seconds. Calls will be served in the order that they are received. If you’d like to be considered for a consolation prize, please press ‘2’ now.”

It took a minute before I realized that the background music playing while I waited was familiar. It was Ray Charles singing about Greenbacks . . . “just a little piece of paper, coated with chlorophyll.” I confirmed my mailing address with the last automated attendant and was told to look for my consolation check in the mail. In closing, Poor Richard received a firm promise that the Department of Governmental Largesse would always endeavor to reallocate the resources of this great nation from each according to their ability and to each according to their need.

$100 Bill

I’m still waiting for the check. You know, Lincoln ain’t gonna get it, Jackson neither. Maybe they’ll send a fresh, crisp $100 bill with Poor Richard on the front.